


Always and Forever

by Talk_me_down



Category: Writers own
Genre: Cats, Death, Letters, Love, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, girls, meow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10434753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talk_me_down/pseuds/Talk_me_down
Summary: The road to truth is never easy. Neither is death, but both have set out to claim my wellbeing. I just lost my love to something unknown to me, and now I am set out to redeem her. There is only one thing I know. It was the tattoo I had gotten that killed her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay new story !!! I'm gonna try and finish this, I have big plans for it for sure. There's gonna be some plot twists to wow you so keep an eye out for that :) enjoy !!!!

I watched as the rain poured down outside of my window. For months we have stood side by side, grasping at each other and drowning in the thoughts we shared only with the other. Now I was drowning in the silence. Something seemed amiss lately. Your letters have started coming in shorter supply. I know I'm the one who loves to write, but you've picked it up just for me. Now you were on the other side of the city, and I was left to stare out the dark window and watch myself drown. 

It's times like these when I figure that I need you the most, because you're the only one who can grab my hand and pull me out of my misery. For these past three years you've stood by me, and we've hidden together through many of our occurrences. I sniff, holding back tears as I finally see the mailman drop off a letter in my mailbox. He knows about me. About us. About the tattoo we both have. Maurice. He's one of the only reason I haven't moved from this damned place. He's the only person that delivers our letters the moment they come into the post office, the only one we can trust. So I watch as he slips away, and I make my way over to the front door. The letter has a few rain drops on it, now accompanied by tear drops as I grasp the letter in my hand. I run my fingers over the wax holding it shut, and cast a weary gaze at the street as I close the door. Your letters are something I read in private, all doors closed and locked. So I rush into my office, push the files to the side of my desk and pull up my chair. Only after I make sure everything is secure do I gently take the wax off. With a slow breath, I begin to read the letter. 

"My dearest love, 

It has been ages since I have written I know, but I hope this letter finds you in good health. It is in my deepest regret that I let my family split us apart, and even now I am writing in secret. Please, do not fret. I am doing just fine, mother hasn't spoken to me in several months but I have denoted that I shall not worry over such things anymore. I do however, worry over your being. Have you been eating? I do hope you write soon. I miss your words dearly, and I read your letters before every nightfall. Today it rained, and I remembered of a time when you said you felt like drowning. Do you still feel it? I know I do, it has been so very long since I've held your strong hand in my own. You are the only one who can pull me back up. My dear, you are the only person who can save me." 

Her writing begins to spread out, becoming messier and messier with every word. She's in danger, somehow I can feel it but I can't bring myself to think of a reason how I know. With a shaky breath and steady hands, I finish the letter. 

"I am not safe here. I have to go now, and I pray dearly that you receive this letter quickly. With any luck Maurice will take it to you tomorrow. If this is the last time I write please know, you are handsome, kind, and gentle. I have never loved anyone as I have loved you. Goodbye my dear. Don't look for me." 

I choke on my tears as I run my fingers over the last few lines once more. There's a year on the letter, '1955.' Seconds begin to feel like days as I drop the letter onto the desk and run out of my office. There's no way she can be dead, right? She's fine, she has to be. Yet still I stumble through the halls where we both once loved and lived, into the kitchen to the phone. I dial with shaky hands, struggling to catch my breath as I finally hear the phone dial come on. My tears fall into rhythm with the rain, and I am left with silence when nobody picks up. I can't feel myself as I slam the receiver down, dialling the number once more and raising it again to my ear, this time a woman picks up, her mother. 

"Is Veronica home." Is all I can get out. My words have become short and sharp, like a knife is held to my back. 

"Did you not hear?" The woman answers back with just as much of a wounded voice. Her mother. I mutter out a no, obviously confused and she continues on. "They came and took her. I saw what you have marked her body with. You filthy sinner. You can never see her again. Not even me or anyone can see her." I heard her become closed off as she ended her statement. 

"Where is she god damn it!" I shouted suddenly, I scared the cat and even myself. Veronica's mothers voice became soft and gentle. 

"They took her to the morgue. Last night she had been murdered. In my own house. And let me tell you if you had one damn thing to do with this I will have you locked up before you can say her name once more. You-" I sobbed. "You monster." With that she hung up and I dropped the phone, letting the receiver hit the counter. I can feel myself drowning now. Every gulp of air is a breath wasted as I sink to the floor. My love, my only love. Dead. All because of me, all because I wanted a tattoo. It killed her, and now it's going to kill me. Because if somebody else doesn't come for me, I'll be dead in a week anyways from my own hand. 

It's now midnight and I am still sitting on my kitchen floor. Her last letter to me spoke of the danger she is, was, in. What happened to her? She is dead, but by whom? Nobody knew of the things we did, nobody knew that I was in love with her. But now I am left without a wife. I know I am going to die as well soon, but before that happens, I must find out what became of her. So it is decided. I will seek truth to her murder before committing one on myself. You cannot take one thing without giving another, so I will take the truth in turn for my life.


End file.
